hen in my solitary mood,
I would shun for a while,
the fascinating twinkling stars,
and the bright full moon,
that adorn the firemen of heaven,
and trouble the front and back of my brain,
†with sordid and sorry situations in my country,
whose woes are legion.
Skepticism and suspicion
about the survival of my countryís unity
grow like yam tendril,
with unseen hand directing it coils and curves.
†Staunchest defenders of the nationís unity
that the nationís foundations is cracking
and Orthodoxies breaking up
before our naked eyes,
and no political space to x-ray the sordid
and sorry situation of the ruled.
Previous criticisms viewed as refuted
and irrelevant have reemerged with new vitality
that challenges the status quo ante.
Violence sits well and tight on its seat
in the billowing cloud,
and with remote control,
†unseen hands command, control and direct
the execution of mayhem across the polity.
Watching the damned scenario
is like being sane in an insane society,
as no red light is beamed
to wedge the run-away dynamic
of the lawlessness that offer citizens no breathing space.
Where is Amadioha, the reluctant Sheriff?